


The Summit

by darthmelyanna, miera



Series: stargate_ren [23]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-23
Updated: 2008-10-31
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthmelyanna/pseuds/darthmelyanna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: In the aftermath of the Goa'uld invasion, the King of Caldora makes his way over the border to meet the Queen of Atalan in secret – the first face-to-face meeting between the sovereigns of these countries in generations.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the delay, folks. But I hope everyone enjoys this one, which featuressache8's second contribution to this 'verse. :)

  
Like the seat of Neill, the secret destination of the Queen of Atalan and her entourage was an old castle tucked quietly away in the mountains, though in this case the castle was little more than a dilapidated tower and no city surrounded it. In the more recent past, someone had built a stable and dug a well within its walls. Jack now used it as a way station for his border sentries, but it had once been a manor house a long, long time before the provinces of Atalan had come together as a country.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Jack muttered over his shoulder. It was not the first time he had expressed this sentiment during the short journey from his home.

Elizabeth, riding confidently behind him on her horse, looked up from her scrutiny of the path before her and smiled. “You were the one who gave me the idea," she reminded him. "Blame yourself."

"I suppose the end will justify the means in this case, but I would appreciate it if you remembered that my ideas are rarely good ones," he said as he turned back around, reminding himself for the thousandth time to keep his thoughts to himself in the future. Elizabeth got enough big ideas on her own without his contributions.

Ahead of him on the path, he saw Marcus Lorne returning. The captain had gone ahead to scout the castle and the defenses before Elizabeth arrived. The scowl of disapproval that had seemed fixed on his face since they'd suggested this plan had not dissipated. "It's all clear," he assured Jack once he was in range to speak. "Her Majesty may proceed."

Jack nodded his thanks. Marcus turned his horse around again on the path, no mean feat considering how narrow it was, and they proceeded through the trees toward the summit. Jack spurred his own mount forward as quickly as possible, which wasn't much, but enough to reach Lorne well enough to talk.

"No sign of the Caldorans?" he asked softly.

"None. They're not here yet."

"If they come," Jack added, careful to keep his doubt expressed lowly enough that Elizabeth wouldn't hear him. Marcus pursed his lips but did not reply. Jack looked behind him. Elizabeth, apparently satisfied that her horse could navigate the path ahead on its own for a little while, was now studying the top of the solitary square tower just visible above the trees. So close, it was actually very difficult to see it properly anymore.

The rest of their small group was behind her. Lady Katherine, sitting pensively on her own horse, hadn't spoken much on the journey. Behind her, the Asgard priest Thor was chatting amicably, though to Kate or the horses or the donkey behind him, Jack wasn't certain. The donkey was laden with the supplies they'd brought – just enough to make life vaguely civilized for the next three days or so. Finally, at the rearguard was Stackhouse, the only other guard who had been brought on the trip, much to Captain Lorne's dismay. He would have much preferred to bring the entire guard whether they had room and provisions for them or not.

A quarter of an hour later, the horses were filing one by one through the gateway and into the courtyard of the old fortress. Already Lorne was dismounting.

"Welcome, your Majesty," said Jack, likewise dismounting and stepping over to Elizabeth to help her down. As her feet hit the ground, her eyes were fixed on the blue summer sky above their heads and her smile and bright eyes were infectious.

"This is beautiful," she told him.

Jack looked around. There wasn't much to the place anymore. Four weather-beaten walls surrounded a courtyard filled with wild grasses and young trees. There had once been buildings, but they had long since rotted away. Here and there stones and old timbers marked where they had been. The only thing left was the tower on the easternmost side of the courtyard, intact and maintained by the lords of Neill for its strategic importance. It was nothing to the palace of Atlantis, but looking at the mountains beyond, hearing the river singing somewhere below them, and watching the sunlight strike the youthful green of the courtyard, Jack could understand Elizabeth's delight. He spied a rabbit in the far southwestern corner eyeing the newcomers with suspicion and smiled. "I agree, your Majesty," he said.

After helping Kate off her mount as well, Jack left the distribution of their packs in Thor's capable hands and escorted Stackhouse to the top of the tower. There he gave the young guardsman instructions on how to monitor all three approaches to the summit. Then he and Lorne toured each level of the tower, making plans.

"I want the queen and Lady Katherine to sleep on the third level," said Lorne with a tone that clearly said he'd been thinking about this almost nonstop since he'd scouted the place. "With access to the battlements. It will provide her Majesty with more than one way out. There's an anteroom that either Stackhouse or myself can sleep in when we're not on watch."

"You plan on sleeping?" Jack asked.

Lorne pressed his lips together. "Not much," he admitted. "I can't cover every access point. The only time I can think to rest is when the queen is under your watch, sir."

"I'll help you, Captain, you have my assurances."

The other man nodded. "You have my thanks, sir."

"I really do believe that no one knows we're here," Jack added.

Lorne looked somewhat grim. "Well, let the queen have faith in that. It's my job to doubt."

* * *

  
Elizabeth and Kate surveyed their new apartment with fascination. The room was square and stone, but for the wooden floor. They had two large windows which let in the sunlight and the breeze, and a fireplace. There was a single narrow soldier's bed for the queen and a pallet that Thor had made for Kate on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Kate turn to look at her. "My lady," Kate said, sounding puzzled. "You seem disappointed. Were you expecting something grander?"

Elizabeth turned to look at Kate sheepishly. She cast her eyes about for a moment. "Actually, I was hoping I'd get to sleep on the ground."

Kate's eyes widened and a short laugh erupted from her lips without thought. Since Elizabeth hadn't seen Kate give an unprovoked smile for days, let alone heard her laugh, she did not regret her unqueenly confession. She grinned back.

"Well," said Kate, "if that's what you really want then I'll take the bed. I won't complain."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No," she said with a sigh, "Captain Lorne would know about it, somehow, and then he would make me feel guilty. They hauled the bed down here from two levels above us specifically for my use." Feeling adventurous, she walked over to the offending bed and sat on it. "I suppose it's plain and practical enough to count for a proper foray into humility," she said, laughing.

"I agree," said Kate. At the sound of a knock on the door, they both turned.

"Jack," said Elizabeth pleasantly at the sight of her mentor. "Please, come in."

"Majesty," he said, as he obeyed the order. He was carrying a large tin pitcher and basin. "I brought you some water if you want to freshen up." He looked around. "How do you like the accommodations?"

"I think they're charming."

"Somehow I expected as much," he said, shaking his head with a knowing smile. He set the pitcher and basin carefully on the floor beside Kate's pallet and straightened. "I just thought you should know," he added, "we're planning to put the Caldoran party on the top two levels of the tower. Hopefully just on one level," he amended, "but we don't know for certain how many people will be in King Henry's party, so we'll use two if we need them."

"And the conferences?" Elizabeth prompted.

"The table and benches you saw on the ground level as we were coming in can be rearranged to accommodate a group," he said. "It will be most comfortable down there, despite the dirt floor."

"It will be perfectly acceptable, Jack, thank you," Elizabeth said.

"When you ladies are finished settling in, I'll show you around the rest of the place while we wait," he said. "At the very least you should come and watch Thor trying to start a fire. It seems after so many years as the head of the greatest collection of minds known to the world, the talent has somehow escaped him. It's quite amusing, but he's refusing any help."

Elizabeth smiled at the mental picture. "We'll join you shortly," she said.

After he closed the door, Kate reached for their bags. "The lawn?" she asked expectantly.

Elizabeth nodded. "In this heat? Absolutely."

While Kate unrolled the pale, lightweight green gown, Elizabeth rid herself of the heavier traveling garment and helped herself to the water that Jack had brought, doing her best to wash away the sweat and grime that had accumulated from their long morning's ride. After she was dressed, she took down her hair and began brushing it while Kate took her turn at bathing.

"Do you really think they'll come?" Kate finally asked, quietly.

Elizabeth pondered as she pulled the brush distractedly through her tangles. A short time ago, Jack had made a comment that had set her mind spinning, namely that face-to-face communication was often more convenient and productive than the labored language of diplomatic letters. The thought had stayed with her as she considered the precarious situation to the south. Then news had come of the great battle in Caldora which had ended with the Goa'uld invaders turning tail and leaving the Caldorans battered, but victorious. And perhaps more importantly, it meant Elizabeth knew the King of Caldora was away from his court and closer to the border than to the capital of his country while she was likewise on the border and far from her own court.

There had not been much time for deliberation. After a brief discussion with Jack on logistics and strategy, Elizabeth drafted a letter to Henry, requesting that he meet her here in the mountains for a face-to-face diplomatic summit, to be held in secret and known only to their closest advisers. Her action had felt reckless, but exhilarating, and when Henry had replied with his agreement, she was sure this was the right course of action. Another missive, this time in Jack's sure hand, had provided the king with directions to reach this remote outpost. Now there was little to do but to put faith in Henry's assurances that he would come.

"I think he intends to," Elizabeth said to answer Kate's question. "If for whatever reason he is unable, I will not hold it against him. If nothing happens but that we sit here cooling our heels for two days, I will not regret the attempt. Besides, I love this place already. Perhaps I'll build a summer home here."

Kate smiled. Then she bit her lip, looking extremely unsure of herself. "And," she asked with great hesitation, "do you think _he_ will come?"

Elizabeth's hands stopped and her heart sped up. There was that. The King of Caldora was on the front, and every report indicated that the newly-ascended Marquis of Sheppard had been fighting beside him every step of the way. Who else would the king possibly consider bringing to a meeting of such sensitive diplomatic importance if not his resident expert on all things Atalanian?

"I hope so," she said, flushing slightly. She wondered secretly, and not for the first time, which motivation was the truer: her desire to see face to face Henry of Landry or John of Sheppard.

Before reading Henry's reply to her invitation, Elizabeth had not allowed herself to hope that she might see John again any time soon. Truthfully she expected it would be at least a year before he was comfortable leaving his people. She was well aware that if war had struck her home, she would not be easy abandoning them, even for someone she loved.

Yet this was an opportunity, a chance for John to come back to Atalan for just a little while, and for the betterment of his own people. He could see for himself that she bore no man's ring upon her finger, and though she knew not what she would say to him, she knew there were many things they needed to say.

After the ladies had finished changing, they met Jack and he showed them each level of the tower, as promised. There wasn't that much to it. Each floor consisted of a great room with a chimney column joining them all to the east and an anteroom with the wooden staircase that climbed the full height of the tower to the west. They admired the surrounding vista of the mountains from the top of the tower, and then descended to the courtyard where Thor had set up a fire pit near the ancient but still serviceable well. Whether someone had needed to help the priest start the fire was a question Elizabeth decided to leave unasked.

They were just gathering to eat their spare dinner when Master Stackhouse came thundering down the stairs.

"Your Majesty, Captain," he said with a hurried bow. He tried to look at both Elizabeth and Lorne at once. "From the south," he said breathlessly. "The Caldorans are approaching."

* * *

  
Henry was grateful as he and his men moved north that the heat seemed to be abating somewhat. After weeks in Dixon during the rainy season he was longing for cooler weather. In the mountains, the heat was not so oppressive.

He still wondered if he or the Queen of Atalan had gone mad, though. A secret rendezvous in a ruined fortress seemed too much to believe of sane people. And it was not as though Henry did not have a tremendous amount to do at home. His country was just beginning to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of the invasion, and he could ill-afford a prolonged absence while there was so much to rebuild and so many decisions waiting to be made. Still, at the same time, this was likely to best time to speak to Queen Elizabeth, while everything remained in an uproar and it was easier to conceal his movements.

Truthfully, he was deeply curious to meet the young queen who had reached out to aid a country which had not been any great friend to her own for generations.

The sun was out in full force as they came through the mountain passes, so Henry was grateful when they reached the thick forest and were able to ride through the shade. The path here was difficult to see, but Lord Jonathan's instructions had warned him of that possibility. After an hour or two in the forest, however, the trees parted and the fortress was just a short distance away.

The building reminded Henry of any number of forgotten structures in his own country, a reminder that the peoples of Atalan and Caldora were not so far apart as their nobles might believe them to be. Ivy climbed the stone walls, and here and there were footprints of smaller buildings which had once surrounded this place. The fortress itself was plain, but it hardly had need of decoration.

Ahead, Sir Malcolm Barrett was surely taking in every detail, but when Henry glanced behind at the third member of their party, Cameron Mitchell seemed to be growing nervous. Technically the young lord was still recovering from serious injuries sustained in the final battle, and Henry suspected that was some of the reason Lord John had sent him in his stead. Had he stayed in Cheyenne with John, he would have been doing all manner of labor and straining his body more than he ought.

On Lord Mitchell's other side was the Asgard Freyr. When the final battle with the Goa'uld had ended, the Asgard priests had split into two smaller groups. One, including Master Thor, had returned to Atalan. Henry had been under no misapprehensions; he knew Thor intended to report all that had occurred in Caldora to the Queen of Atalan. He'd been surprised, though, that some of the priests volunteered to remain behind and offer what aid they could. Two of the Asgard had left for the ruined city of Cheyenne, while Freyr joined the king and his party on the road into the mountains.

A young man in black stood at the entry to the fortress and Henry pulled his horse to a halt. When he dismounted so did his companions. Together, the men walked to the gate. "Young man," he said to the guard on the other side, "I believe your queen is expecting me."

The gate was opened without a word, and the Caldorans led their horses into the fortress.

The man who'd let them in told them where to take their horses, and he followed them there. Then he led them into a courtyard, where another door was opening. A gentleman of about Henry's age stepped out and held the door for two young ladies and another man dressed in black.

The women were both dressed quite simply, one with blonde hair, one dark. The gentleman who had opened the door offered his arm to the tall, dark-haired woman, while the other lady walked behind. The taller one was the queen, then. She was a rather lovely young woman, as was her companion. Thor came out behind the ladies, and nodded to his fellow Asgard in Henry's party.

"Majesty," the queen said, "I am glad to see you alive and well. Welcome to Atalan."

Henry nodded. "I thank you for your hospitality."

Elizabeth closed the gap between them and he kissed her hand formally. A moment later he took a good look at her and was startled at what he saw. She was so _young_. He knew she was but eighteen, but seeing the proof of her age was another matter.

"Allow me to introduce my companions and advisors," she said, gesturing to the gentleman who had escorted her over and the lady who had followed. "Lord Jonathan, Marquis of Neill, commander of my army." The two men nodded to each other cordially, and then the smaller of the women stepped forward as well. "Lady Katherine, daughter of the Earl of Heightmeyer."

Henry turned then to his own men. "Freyr you know, of course. With us are Lord Cameron Mitchell, and Sir Malcolm Barrett," he said.

The queen fixed her eyes on Cameron. "You are Lord John's cousin."

"How did you know?" the young man asked.

"I am greatly acquainted with your cousin, my lord," she told him. "Has he come?" Her eyes flicked to the area behind them briefly.

"Lord John decided to stay with his people," Henry said, curious as to whether the news about Cheyenne's destruction had reached the border or not.

For a moment there was deep disappointment in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Henry wondered if he had imagined it. John had come to the vehement defense of this lady so many times that it was obvious that he had formed a friendship with her. This young lady had given John a home, and Henry could understand his loyalty to her for that, though it left him with worries about John's feelings towards the crown of Caldora. However, that was a subject for another time.

"Well," Elizabeth said, with one last glance at Lord Mitchell, "I am glad you have come. I hope our meeting here will bring good to both sides of these mountains."

"We are of like mind, my lady," Henry replied.

The queen gestured toward the door where she had entered, and the party started toward it slowly. "I suppose there is one more thing I should ask," she began.

"And what might that be?"

To his mild surprise, she smiled. "Can any of you cook?"

* * *

  
There was general agreement not to begin their discussions until morning, when everyone had rested from the journey here. Jack was glad about that, but he was also acutely aware that every day here meant greater risk of some hunting party stumbling into the fortress and finding the queen there with the King of Caldora, of all people.

Not that many in Atalan would recognize the King of Caldora.

They had just finished supper – each side had provisions remaining from the ride here, so no one was forced to cook as of yet – when Thor asked that they all accompany him and Freyr outside. Earlier in the day Thor had mentioned some great advancement which the Caldorans had already seen, but which they wished to demonstrate in front of the Atalanians as well.

Elizabeth ambled on ahead of the rest, engrossed by her surroundings, so Jack took Kate's arm as they walked to the small, level clearing where Thor and Freyr had set up their demonstration. Some narrow planks of wood were laid out end to end, forming a long line.

"Your Majesty," Thor said, drawing Elizabeth's attention, "I must ask you and all the rest to step back."

They did as they were told, and Jack watched as Freyr slowly walked along the planks, pouring some black substance from a small barrel. When he reached the end, he cautiously carried the barrel some distance away and came up to the group. Thor then touched the end of a long, slender rod to a candle that burned in his hand. He extinguished the candle and touched the rod to the powder, then turned and ran toward the group as though his life depended on it.

Jack watched as the powder began to burn, but he could not watch for long. An enormous amount of smoke came up from the boards. He could hear a sizzling noise, and after a few seconds the noise stopped. Jack looked around and saw that other than the Asgard, only King Henry did not seem puzzled by what had happened.

Freyr and Thor rushed forward as soon as the smoke began to clear, and they beckoned the rest forward. Jack frowned when he reached the boards. Where the powder had been there were now burn marks.

"Master Thor," Elizabeth said, "I know you hated to hear me say this when I was younger, but the purpose of this has eluded me."

Jack thought Thor smiled at the queen, who seemed to have expressed the confusion of nearly everyone there. "Then let us offer another demonstration," he said.

Out came an odd-looking contraption, a long metal barrel with a wooden piece attached to one end. In front of them all, Freyr and Thor went through a painstaking process of fitting a small ball into the barrel along with some of the mysterious powder they had burned. Thor asked them all to move some distance away from Freyr so they could see what was happening despite the smoke that would be generated.

After they were still again, there was movement on the other side of the clearing. Jack barely had time to register the silhouette of a stag before there was a tremendously loud crack. Smoke filled the air again, birds took off from the trees all around, and the stag fell.

He did not understand the inner workings of it all, but the full weight of this contraption and its implications seemed to bear down on Jack at once.

Beside him, Elizabeth had turned pallid.

Thor and Freyr brought the device over and began to explain how it worked, how the burning powder, contained in the barrel, pushed the lead ball out at a speed so fast it was able to take down a deer. Jack's mind was already racing ahead. If King Henry had seen this before, then this substance – gunpowder, Thor called it – could be used as a weapon. Anyone who possessed this would have a great advantage over anyone who didn't.

From the look on her face, Elizabeth was also jumping from one possibility to another. But he could see revulsion in her eyes. Even though she had come close to death more than once in her young life, Elizabeth was still repulsed by the thought of force. It was as though she thought that building a navy would be enough to scare off the Wraith, and not that she was building a navy that would actually fight.

Sometimes she could be painfully naïve.

"This could be used on people," she stated coldly, once the Asgard had finished their explanation of the weapon.

"It has," King Henry replied grimly, "though not in these trappings."

With a look of disgust on her face, Elizabeth turned and marched back to the keep.

* * *

  
Cameron Mitchell wondered idly as the Caldoran party made its way upstairs whether or not there was some unspoken diplomatic significance in the delegation of sleeping arrangements. Not that the climb was particularly taxing – he'd been much too conditioned by battle for that – but neither was it the most delightful way to end a long day of riding.

As they climbed, Cameron thought over his first meeting with Queen Elizabeth. He'd long been curious about her and her countrymen, and his curiosity had grown almost to resentment when his cousin John had confessed a preference for Atalan over his own homeland. All things considered, Cameron realized now that he shouldn't have been surprised when the queen had known his relation to John immediately. It was clear that the two were well-acquainted, and the queen's obvious concern about John was enough to mollify Cameron's unhappiness somewhat.

After brief consideration, Cameron concluded that he really had _no_ conclusions yet to make about the famous Queen of Atalan. She was young, she was beautiful, she was stately. She was in fact very much like Princess Carolyn on the few occasions that he'd observed the princess putting on a public face. He thought the comparison was reasonable, as Princess Carolyn was the best example of a lady in court politics that he had to draw upon. Cameron knew that in those moments, all vestiges of the princess's true character were masked so deeply that he never could have guessed what she was truly like if he hadn't had the strange fortune to first meet her in an unguarded moment.

"Here you are, my lords," said the guard who had been escorting them up the staircase. Glancing up, Cameron noted that the last stretch of the staircase ended in a trap door above their heads and guessed them to be in the very top level of the tower.

The room on the other side was dusty and utterly unfurnished, but a fire crackled in the grate with a light that was welcoming, even though the mountain air was not terribly cold. Cameron followed on the heels of the king and Sir Malcolm, hoping that his face didn't betray any kind of unconscious distaste for the accommodations.

"The queen and Lord Jonathan offer their apologies for the sparseness of the room, and any requests you might have toward your comfort will be met to the best that they are able." He spoke with extreme deliberation, sometimes looking above their heads slightly as though to check his words. Cameron couldn't help but let a small, sympathetic smile for the young soldier. Undoubtedly the man had never counted on diplomacy factoring into his duties to his queen.

"This will be fine, thank you," said the king, and after a hasty bow, their escort closed the door again with obvious relief.

Cameron dropped his traveling pack to the floor with no ceremony and let out a groan. "Well, this has hardly been the longest day I've endured, but I am thankful it is ended just the same," he said after relishing for a moment in the thought of not having to move for the rest of the night.

"It was a long ride," Malcolm agreed with his usual brevity. The older man set his pack down with none of Cameron's drama and set about loosening the ties to his bedroll.

"I hope you don't snore, Lord Mitchell," the king added. "Out in the wilderness I would not have noticed, but in these close quarters I would find it quite tiresome."

Cameron felt somewhat easier at the king's gentle humor, and he smiled faintly. "Perhaps you ought to have acquired this information from my cousin before inviting me on this little trip, Majesty," he pointed out.

The king chuckled, but a lull fell in the conversation and Cameron looked up to see a sad, pensive expression cloud Henry's features. "I fear that the marquis had much more pressing matters to occupy his thoughts," he remarked with a small sigh.

Cameron did not reply, and the humor in the room was gone like a quick waft of breeze. He squeezed his eyes briefly and could picture his childhood home of Cheyenne, smoke still drifting in the northerly winds as he and John pounded to reach the city, too late to do anything but sift through rubble and search for survivors.

Swallowing down the bitter memory and the guilt of being far from where he was most needed right now, Cameron pulled out his blanket and reached further into his pack until his fingers brushed a rough piece of parchment. He pulled it out and studied it thoughtfully. It was sealed and addressed to Queen Elizabeth in his cousin's strong hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Malcolm regarding him. He turned to meet the other man's gaze, and Malcolm nodded at the letter. "When will you give that to her?"

Cameron turned back to look at the letter. "As soon as I get a good opportunity," he said uncertainly. John had written a hasty explanation for his absence and requested Cameron to deliver it to the queen's hand for him. No chance had arisen during the evening meal, and none of them knew yet whether the queen was aware of the tragedy that had kept the king's best authority on Atalan away from this meeting.

"Make an opportunity," said Henry, in a tone that was not a request. "If she is not already aware of what happened to Cheyenne, she needs to know. If you don't, I'm afraid I'll have to tell her myself. I respect the marquis' wishes, but a communication of this nature would not reflect well on us if it were kept secret for very long."

Cameron nodded and tucked the paper safely back into its place. "I'll tell her tomorrow," he assured his king.  



	2. Chapter 2

  
The day dawned with haze. Malcolm could feel it cloying to his skin when he woke. Fortunately, at this altitude the heat was less demanding, though not by much. After breakfast with Lord Mitchell, he joined King Henry on the top of the main tower to survey the landscape around them, which had been hard to appreciate during their evening ascent.

"Sheppard was telling me how he always had an insatiable curiosity for these mountains when he was a boy," Henry said as Malcolm stepped up beside him. "I think, had I seen more of them, I might have shared it." He pointed down at a ravine where hints of white froth betrayed the presence of a small river otherwise difficult to perceive through the summer haze and foliage. "I've already seen several deer this morning, including a stag of considerable years." He gave a sigh. "If only royal hunting parties didn't involve so much hoot and holler."

Malcolm smirked. "Even if they didn't, we don't get many deer around Redwater," he pointed out.

"Cursed flatlands," Henry concurred. "Why on earth our ancestors wanted to put a castle in such a dull, indefensible patch of earth I'm sure I'll never know."

It was a familiar complaint and Malcolm let it pass and turned his mind to the task at hand. "My lord, we're due to the first conference in a quarter of an hour."

"I know, I know." They turned and made their way down the stairs carefully.

The conference room was as lacking in luxury as the rest of the crumbling accommodations. The second level of the tower, just above the cellar, was not very cheery compared to the glorious sunshine outside, but the cool drafts wafting up from below more than made up for the drab surroundings.

"Well, one good thing about all this clandestine behavior," said King Henry as they all took their seats around the rickety table, "is we can dispense with all that preliminary political drivel and get right to it. Unless you have any objections, your Majesty?" he added, glancing over at Queen Elizabeth with a slight twinkle in his eye.

The queen was primly and gracefully arranging her skirts around her feet. Seeming to have settled them to her liking, she looked up and returned Henry's question with a small smile. "None whatsoever, I assure you." She exchanged glances with Neill. "I believe the most obvious place to begin would be discussion of further aid that Atalan might render Caldora in the aftermath of this war."

Henry leaned back slightly, scrutinizing her. "I certainly won't argue," he commented, and gestured that she should continue.

"Provided the Goa'uld have truly relinquished their object of conquest–" Elizabeth began. She was interrupted by a soft double-knock on the table from Lord Mitchell, seated two places away from her, next to Lady Katherine. "Pardon, my lord," she said quizzically, "do you already take objection to my words?"

Malcolm suppressed a chuckle at the blank look of terrified incomprehension on Lord Mitchell's face. He glanced down at his fist, which was still balled slightly on the table top. "Oh," he said, blushing slightly with embarrassment. "No, I apologize, it's just–" he rapped his knuckles on the wood again slightly by way of demonstration. "It's a superstitious gesture to ward off bad luck. When you pointed out that the Goa'uld have supposedly left for good, I just… it's a habit left over from childhood." It was clear that Mitchell's mortification was mounting with each word he spoke. He looked desperately to the king and Malcolm for help. Finding none, he turned back to the queen. "I suppose you do not do this in Atalan," he said flatly.

The queen seemed amused. "No, Lord Mitchell, we do not. But far be it for me to slight tradition," she added, and reached out to rap on the table confidently.

King Henry's chuckled, a reaction that was shared by the rest of the onlookers, albeit not to any extent which would have compromised their aristocratic dignity. Malcolm felt himself warming to the young woman in spite of himself. "You were saying," the king gestured to Elizabeth as the amusement died down.

"I was saying," she said, nodding her head graciously, "that Atalan is willing to provide what further assistance it can to Caldora in your restoration efforts, as a show of good faith." She added the last with unmistakable emphasis.

"We know that a great deal of your food production was cut short due to the fighting," Neill said.

"Cut short?" echoed Malcolm, shaking his head. "It never began. It's almost midsummer – much too late to begin planting. We have no chance of eluding the autumn frosts."

"Too many of the fields lay fallow before this," Lord Mitchell commented, crossing his arms. "Much of the northern portions of the country have been unable to plant or tend to crops, as they have been gathered in the cities for safety. The grain yields from the rest of the country will not be enough to make up for the shortfall."

"We may have a few odd vegetables here and there," added Malcolm, "those with a short planting cycle, but not enough to last the winter."

Elizabeth nodded slowly, her forehead creased lightly in thought. "To the best of our knowledge, Atalan is expecting a modest surplus in some crops for this season. It should be possible to forward a portion of it to Caldora. More importantly," she added, "there is some valuable and very hardy seed in our royal stores. I will see to it that you receive a sampling to be interspersed with your planting in the spring. It will strengthen the overall yield of your harvests after a few generations, I am told."

King Henry's eyes went briefly to rest on the Asgard representative, who sat silent and observant, before returning his attention to Elizabeth. "That is a very valuable offer, my lady," he said, his voice cautious. The queen's offer was more direct than anything Malcolm had expected to hear, and he understood the king's hesitancy.

"Your Majesty," Mitchell said, raising a hand as if to request pardon. He looked around the table nervously, perhaps afraid he would unwittingly make another lapse in etiquette. "This surplus that you say you're going to send us–"

"That I _am_ going to send you," she corrected firmly, though not harshly.

"Of course, my lady. My apologies," he said, though with obvious and considerable patience. Malcolm wondered, not for the first time, why the king had chosen such a novice of political niceties for this highly important and historic rendezvous. The queen, however, appeared somewhat amused by the young man.

"Yes, what about it, Lord Mitchell?"

"Forgive me if my question seems ignorant or impertinent, but does that mean only the grain, or the stalk as well?"

She blinked at him. "Thus far we have focused our efforts primarily on meeting the very basic needs of your people," she said. "Food, medicines. I believe our shipments have primarily been of grain already threshed."

"For which we are already more than grateful, your Majesty," Mitchell said, nodding his head. "But there will be need to care for our livestock, as well, and straw is used for feed and bedding. It would also be very useful for reconstruction," he added quietly, and glanced down at the tabletop.

Malcolm exchanged glances with the king, wondering if the queen would ask about the extent of reconstruction necessary in Caldora. He did not think that Mitchell had given Lord John's letter to her yet, and none of them knew if the news of the pillaging of Cheyenne had reached the Atalanians before now. None of them knew what Lord John's letter said, but Malcolm at least assumed it would be best to let the queen read it first and ask her own questions afterward.

Clarity dawned in the queen's eyes. "Of course," she said. "For thatching." The word fell from her lips with an almost alien quality, and there was a brief light of discovery on her face which she swiftly restored to its former composure. She considered this new insight for a moment before speaking. "My education on these matters is incomplete," she said slowly, "but I imagine that the transportation of straw would be more difficult due to its bulk. I will confer with my advisers to determine what we can realistically be able to send. Any information that you can provide us in the next couple of months as to your specific needs would be most helpful."

Malcolm was almost relieved that she hadn't given her absolute agreement at once. Her forthright, almost eager generosity put him slightly on edge. No sovereign nation could afford the expenditure of resources without some hope of return. As kindhearted as the lady might be, she must have some design in mind for all of this. The trouble was, without further insight, he could not conceivably determine what Atalan might stand to gain.

"Now, as far as any other amenities," Elizabeth said, "such as blankets, iron or tin for cookware, whatever you deem essential, feel free to inform us as well. I can make no guarantees, of course, but without specifics there can be no answers, as my tutors often reminded me."

King Henry gave a knowing smile, his voice carrying a hint of brazen confidence. "I would not have you think the coffers of Caldora were utterly barren, my lady. Such things are easily bought by trade. Indeed, two months' time will bring the peddlers and tinkers in their usual seasons, now that it is safe to travel. The herd masters kept most of the flocks out of harm's way. We still have wool to trade." Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm saw Mitchell sit up a bit straighter. "We are not an excessive people. My only concern is that we may see out the winter with minimal loss of life. I will accept no more aid from Atalan than may be said to help us to that end."

Malcolm could practically envision the line King Henry had just drawn across the table, the subtle warning not to treat Caldora as a beggar or her king as a supplicant. Henry's interests were in keeping his people from starving. To that end, he would ask help of the devil if need be, but not beyond it.

Elizabeth considered the king with keen eyes before nodding slowly. Malcolm perceived her approval. "Then let us discuss particulars, shall we?" she said.

The morning devolving into logistics of miles and bushels as the hours passed. In the back of his mind, Malcolm tallied what the queen had offered to give or attempt to provide. Compared to the sum of Atalan's wealth it was still far too generous a figure for his comfort. Granted, his intelligence of Atalan's finances could hardly be trusted to be wholly sound, but neither was he ignorant of the weaknesses created by the practices of its late regency.

The question then remained. What was the true agenda of the Queen of Atalan?

* * *

  
After a light supper, Elizabeth wandered outside the ruined fortress, wanting to take in her new surroundings. As ever, Marcus was a step behind, along with Stackhouse, but tonight she could ignore them. They were even more isolated here than they had been at Jack's. The sensation of being alone – or at least very near to it – was so foreign to her that it was almost overwhelming.

She was watching a little family of rabbits with amusement when suddenly Marcus turned around. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to see Cameron Mitchell approaching her, and she turned more fully to him. "Lord Cameron," she said. Her guards faded to a discreet distance at her welcome, giving her some measure of privacy with John's cousin.

He bowed to her. "I am usually called Lord Mitchell, your Majesty," he clarified, with an awkward smile.

Elizabeth nodded. "I see. Is this because you are not lord of the manor?"

"Yes and no," Cameron replied, shrugging. "There is not much rhyme or reason to how we are addressed in Caldora."

She smiled, trying to put him at ease. "Then if I am ever in your court, I hope someone like you will apprise me of how to address the noblemen before I meet them."

"I would be honored," he said with a smile and a nod.

A silence fell between them, and Elizabeth found herself uncomfortable with it, not knowing how much he knew of what had passed between her and John. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, of course," she remarked. "But I must confess, I had hoped to see your cousin here."

Cameron nodded. "He wished very much to accompany the king," he replied, "but circumstances at home…"

Part of her wanted to point out to him that Atalan was John's home now, but she beat back the petulant child within her and tried to be more circumspect. "Circumstances? Concerning the war?" she asked.

He nodded again. "Perhaps I should let him explain himself." With that he produced a letter, and it was only years of training which kept her from snatching it away from his hands. "John wrote this when it was decided that I would come here in his place. His instructions were to place it in no hand but yours."

Elizabeth was hardly sensible of what Cameron was saying. She was already opening the letter with trembling hands.

 _My lady,_ it read,

_By now I trust you have heard of the great and terrible destruction of Cheyenne. The city is in chaos. Every dawn brings a fresh crisis. The devastation is so extensive that I fear I have not witnessed the half of it._

_I must beg your Majesty's indulgence in this matter, for my people need me. I know your wisdom and compassion are great enough to understand this, and I hope that you will forgive my absence. I cannot abandon my people._

_John_

The hand was sloppy, and Elizabeth guessed he had had little time to compose the note. With the exception of the close – his given name, not his titles – the letter was formal, almost distant. It was unlike John as she remembered him in her court, and her heart fluttered with nervousness even as she read the words again with growing alarm.

"Your cousin speaks of a 'great and terrible' event, my lord. We had not heard of anything beyond the final battle with the Goa'uld."

Cameron stared at her in surprise for a moment, and Elizabeth saw him swallow uneasily. "It was a few days after the battle. We received word that the Jaffa had attacked the city of Cheyenne."

Elizabeth's heart leapt to her throat. "Cheyenne is the capital of Sheppard, is it not?"

"Yes, my lady." The pain on his face made her fear the worst.

She stepped closer to him. "How bad is it? Truly?"

Cameron hedged. "It would not be fit for a lady's ears."

"I am a queen, Lord Mitchell," she told him with a hint of imperiousness. "I hear many things not fit for a lady's ears."

The young man looked away, toward the ruined fortress. "I was not there when it happened, but... I understand that the people in the city fled into the keep or to the rivers when the Jaffa came," he said. "Because of that, the loss of life was less severe than we had expected, but there were too few beds in the city before the attack, not to mention the food stores being low. The destruction was grave, and we were left with precious little in the aftermath."  
  
Elizabeth winced as her mind raced. The refugees who had filled the northern cities, all crammed together and waiting interminably through the war, then finding themselves in a damaged city with the already limited supplies wiped out by this last, despicable act of a cowardly enemy who attacked defenseless women and children…

Her voice sharpened unexpectedly. "Do you know which of the Goa'uld was responsible?"

Cameron met her eyes and she was unsurprised by the hatred flaring him them. "Ba'al."

Elizabeth bit down on her tongue to keep the curse at bay, but at the same time, his answer did not shock her. Though she could have believed it of any of the Goa'uld, Ba'al's deviousness and cruelty were too well known for her to feel anything but disgust.

She drew her mind back to the matter at hand. John had inherited his father's title. He was the marquis now, and his place at such a moment was where the damage was the worst. "And so John felt he must remain in the city," she said, almost to herself.

Cameron nodded. "I hope I will not offend you, my lady, by saying I wanted with all my heart to remain there as well."

Elizabeth heard the echo of John's own character in his words and she shook her head. "I understand, Lord Mitchell, and I commend you for it." Something she had said to John long ago came back to her, and she reached out and touched Cameron's arm. "If there is any aid Atalan can render to the people of Cheyenne, you have only to name it and I will do all in my power to grant it."

"That is most generous, Majesty," he said haltingly.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she wondered again what John had told his cousin about her and about Atalan. She drew years of habit about her like a cloak. "The Goa'uld and Lord Ba'al have no friend in me, my lord. I would not stand idle and refuse to act to help those they try to make their victims."

The evening was growing cooler, and Elizabeth shivered as she folded John's letter again. "I hope I have not upset you," Cameron said quietly, looking at her with an intensity that unsettled her.

"Of course not, Lord Mitchell," Elizabeth said formally. "But I thank you for your concern."

He seemed to take that as a dismissal, and he bowed and departed. Elizabeth stayed outside the ruins for some time, reading John's letter again and thinking over what his cousin had said. She had hardly admitted it to herself, but ever since news of the war's completion had reached her, she had harbored hope that John might be able to come back soon. He had tasks in Caldora which he could not shirk, to be sure, but she had fervently hoped he would accompany King Henry to this summit, so that at the least she could see him again, however briefly, and clarify for how things stood between them now that the war was ended.

It was too much to hope that one kiss months ago could bind their fates together, but had she not refused a prince on the memory of that kiss?

Now, though, she grimly acknowledged that the reconstruction of his own capital would keep him in Caldora for many months, if not years. It would not matter that Atalan was his true home, that he _belonged_ here. Need and duty would keep him in Cheyenne. His letter had said as much.

When she finally did retire for the evening, it was only her sense of dignity which kept her from tucking the letter under her pillow and crying herself to sleep. She wasn't sure even Kate's presence could have stopped her otherwise. Before leaving for Iolan she had told herself that for the good of her country, she had to stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. As she lay awake that night, she repeated the admonition to herself, knowing that this time she needed to be more successful than she had been in Iolan.

* * *

  
The kitchen in the fortress was just barely attached to the rest of the structure, and was just barely large enough for two people. As Kate came in on the second morning she was glad that the heat meant she wasn't wearing layers upon layers of petticoats. If her skirts had taken up any more room, no one would have been able to function here.

The previous day they had still had provisions left from the journey there and there was food for breakfast, but now someone had to cook. Sir Malcolm, the Caldoran knight who had accompanied the king, was already there when she arrived. He looked up from the meat he was cutting and smiled at her. "I see my assistant has arrived," he said. "I wasn't sure if it would be you or Lord Jonathan."

She stepped past him to where the flour had been placed. "I'm sure Jack can cook, but whether we would want to eat what he cooks is another matter," she told him.

Malcolm laughed. "I suppose that is true, but I imagine you have never had to camp out in the middle of a journey and eat whatever you can cook for yourself."

Kate went to work clearing out a space near the provisions she needed, at the opposite end of the table where he was working with the meat. "Is it that obvious?"

He shrugged. "If Atlantis is anything like Redwater, then I imagine life in the palace comes with certain amenities. Talented cooks being one of them."

She smiled in return, but the mention of Atlantis brought a strong longing for home. It seemed like ages had passed since she had seen the spires of the palace and smelled salt air.

Malcolm nodded to the corner behind Kate. "I drew water," he said, and she looked to see the bucket near her feet. "I'm afraid the only milk we have left is soured already."

"That's all right," Kate replied. "We can still cook with it."

She got to work immediately to make the bread. As a little girl she had flitted about the kitchens at home, watching the master bakers at work, so she knew the process, but it had been years. At the time, she had been more interested in the grinding of the wheat grains into flour, but thankfully, that was already done for her, something of a rarity.

At the last estate they had visited, Kate had gone into the kitchen and asked the cook for a little of the leaven he used in bread. She had complimented his bread-making and he, getting red-faced, had given her a small amount of the batter, explaining how to feed it and assuring her of how greatly he felt the compliment, coming from a high-born lady raised in Heightmeyer.

She now had twice the amount she needed to make the day's bread, so she took some flour, formed a little basin in it, and poured out the leaven she needed. The rest she left in its bowl, covered with a cloth. In the evening she would feed it again so that tomorrow there would be enough for the day. She poured in a little more water, a little salt, and got to work mixing it with her hands, adding flour in until the dough was sticky, but not so sticky that she couldn't work with it. Once the consistency was to her satisfaction, Kate began to knead the dough, letting her mind wander as she worked.

The previous night Marcus had secured her and Elizabeth in their room, as he always did, and there was a moment in which Kate met his eyes and did not see the hurt which had lingered there since the night they had fought in Jack's estate. The absence of it had startled her so much that she stared.

The last few weeks had been painful, probably for the both of them. Kate was only now reaching the point where she did not lie awake every night reviewing their argument in her head. Laura, just recovering from illness, had been keenly disappointed when Kate had confessed to her that her romance with Marcus was over, but there was a flurry of activity preparing for this trip and Laura and her husband had departed to visit her family before Kate had to endure more than one or two lectures from her friend over her actions.

Part of her – the friend and sister – wanted to sit up late into the night talking of young men and their romantic escapades, but as they got older, Elizabeth seemed to remember that she had authority over whom her friends could marry. Sometimes such discussions were awkward, especially when they were about arguments. With Kate and Marcus it was doubly awkward, for she had the final say concerning marriage for both of them.

But Elizabeth knew, generally, what had passed between them. Even without talking about it, Kate knew her friend was unhappy with the situation.

For that matter, so was Kate.

She was disturbed from her thoughts at the sound of chuckling from the other end of the table. Kate looked up abruptly, her hands deep in the dough. "What is it?"

"You were singing," Malcolm said, grinning at her.

Kate blushed. "I hadn't realized."

"You have a fine voice, my lady," he said. "I would not object to working with you if you continue."

"I'm not even sure what I was singing," she said, shaking her head as she reached for a cloth to cover the dough. It was ready to rise.

"Something about unrequited love. A lady jilted by her lover." He walked over to the wash basin and began to wash his hands. "You weren't always singing the lyrics, so I had to deduce a little."

Kate wiped her hands on a cloth, deciding to change the subject. "What else can I do?"

She spent much of the rest of the morning doing as Malcolm asked, fetching ingredients and chopping vegetables and whatever else he needed a second pair of hands for, except when she had to prepare the bread dough to bake. As the hours passed, he also began to flirt with her little by little. She did not sense any great design in it, and little by little she flirted back. Malcolm was a handsome man who clearly had been well-educated. She felt at ease in his presence, and she took his attention as a compliment.

All in all the morning passed more pleasantly than she expected, and before long they were serving the noon meal to Elizabeth, Jack, King Henry, and Lord Mitchell. Kate carried the bread and wine to the table with Malcolm right behind, bringing in the roast venison. "My lady," she said to Elizabeth, "I hope you do not mind a lighter fare for a few days. This venture has given me a fresh appreciation for the cooks in the kitchen at home."

"You'd have to spend all day in the kitchen to produce meals with several courses," Lord Mitchell remarked. "And possibly have a much larger staff."

Having set the food on the table, Kate smiled. "In this case I believe I was the staff, and I'm not sure how much good I did. Sir Malcolm seems far more capable than I."

"You underestimate yourself, Lady Katherine," Malcolm said. "You did make the bread."

"Let us not judge until the food is tasted. It's been years since I made bread for my amusement, let alone for consumption."

Elizabeth laughed. "What a scandal that would be," she said. "A lady born in Atalan's breadbasket unable to make bread?"

"My daughter was raised in similar surroundings," said King Henry. "If she could make edible bread I would be beside myself with amazement."

Jack came up and put his arm around Kate's shoulders briefly. "I fear Lord George and Lord Daniel and I may have forgotten a key part of your education, ladies."

"I sing; I play the lute; I dance; I sew," Elizabeth said. "I read constantly; I speak all the major languages of the continent; I can name every constellation; I can recite my country's history from our first king. I tend to my garden; I ride; I swim; I can use a knife. On top of that I have a country to govern. When, Jack, did you imagine I would have time to cook?"

At that Jack could only laugh, and Kate noticed that King Henry did too.

They all settled down to eat, and the food was not so bad after all. The venison was more gamey than Kate was used to, but it was still enjoyable. Her bread was good enough that none of it was left at the end of the meal. Kate found herself talking with the king about Landry and Heightmeyer. As it happened, their ancestral homes were somewhat similar, and Kate was the same age as his daughter.

That led inevitably to talk of differences in crops between the two countries, Elizabeth and King Henry skirting the subject of what they had to gain from each other. It was the delicate kind of game which Kate had seen Elizabeth play before, but this time the man opposite her did not seem to underestimate her in the slightest. Perhaps this was because Henry had corresponded with Elizabeth before truly seeing just how young she was.

Eventually, though, the king broke the stalemate. "You realize that this is a subject which we could discuss for days upon days," he remarked dryly, settling more comfortably in his chair.

"That is quite true," Elizabeth conceded. "All told I believe I spent five days discussing trade in Iolan, and they have been trading partners of Atalan for generations."

"My lady," Jack said, "have I mentioned to you lately how glad I am that you didn't make me accompany you on that state visit?"

"No, Jack, but you need hardly mention it for me to know."

Kate glanced at the king, who was watching with amused interest. She supposed that in his court, he was not so close to his advisors as Elizabeth was to hers.

"Yesterday we discussed what aid Atalan would be able to send you," Elizabeth said, turning her attention back to the subject at hand. "Obviously we cannot extend a hand forever with nothing in return. Discounting the politics, we cannot empty our own coffers."

Henry nodded. "I am aware of some of what your country is capable of providing," he remarked. "I am curious, however. Do you raise sheep in Atalan? I have heard the Marquis of Sheppard complain about the bitter cold of winter in Atlantis and I wonder a little about how your people dress for the chill."

At the mention of John, Elizabeth looked down for a moment. When she spoke again it was with a smile, one that anyone other than Kate or Laura would take for genuine. "I must say, I am a poor judge of climates," she said slowly. "I have passed every winter of my life in Atlantis, but yes, it is cold. I must say, however, that there is nothing quite like looking out at Solstice, the whole world white and sparkling in the moonlight."

She looked up then and laughed at herself. "Pardon me, my lord. I must be a little homesick, or perhaps it is this wretched heat that drives me to thoughts of winter at home." Before Elizabeth proceeded, Kate drew out a fan and handed it to the queen. "There are a few sheep in Atalan, but not many, I'm afraid," she continued, fanning herself. "The most northerly parts of my country are too forested for grazing, and I believe many further south are hard-pressed to sacrifice flat, fertile farmland to extensive livestock. We have linen and hemp, of course. Wool, I'm afraid, is something of a luxury."

Kate watched the king while Elizabeth spoke, and she could tell when he decided that he had hit upon something which he could offer the queen. "I imagine what wool you have that is not produced in your country comes to you at a dear price," he remarked.

"Yes."

The king turned to Lord Mitchell. "We have a shepherd with us," he said. "Lord Mitchell, what would it take to get wool into Atalan from Caldora?"

The young man was evidently surprised to be called upon, but he shifted in his chair and looked thoughtful. "My understanding is that the roving – the raw wool, before it's spun – leaves Caldora in the hands of foreign traders, who trade to someone else, who trade to someone else, until it reaches a place like Atlantis. Every time it changes hands it grows more expensive."

Elizabeth leaned forward and looked directly at Cameron. "Sir, let me understand you rightly," she said. "If we were to cut out that process – if you were to come to me to sell your wool, you could sell at a greater price than you do now, while I would buy at a much lower price than I do now."

"I believe you are correct, Majesty," Cameron replied.

"The same would be true of any product of your land or mine," King Henry added. "Sending our goods to each other through foreign merchants incurs a new cost at every exchange, not to mention the likelihood of taxes as they cross borders."

Elizabeth nodded. "I suppose taxes would be something to discuss."

"I thought the purpose of this summit was to facilitate efficiency, my lady," Jack remarked, looking thoroughly bored.

That made everyone laugh. "Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself," Elizabeth admitted.

"It is reasonable, my lady, that open trade between our countries would be quite beneficial to both sides," Henry said gently. "I cannot imagine that my assembly would be gravely opposed to the idea."

Elizabeth just raised a brow in skepticism, no doubt imagining what Atalan's college of lords would say on the matter. Henry amended, "Not prohibitively opposed, anyway. As it is, you have a champion in my court. John of Sheppard has defended you and your country in no uncertain terms on more than one occasion. I can only imagine that he would be in full support of this measure."

Elizabeth smiled sweetly, but Kate recognized the shadow of unhappiness in her eyes. "Lord John is a good man," the queen said quietly. "I am sure he will do what is best for his people."

The discussion veered off into related subjects, but Kate's mind was on Elizabeth's state. She knew that Lord John's cousin had spoken with her privately the previous evening, and that Elizabeth had been withdrawn afterward. The constant reminders of John and his absence were no doubt weighing heavily on her, and Kate was left wishing there was something more she could do to help her friend.

* * *

  
When evening fell, Henry found himself alone at the top of the tower, sitting near the low wall and watching twilight fall. The land reminded him of a journey where he'd accompanied an ambassador to a far-off land and returned with a wife. This journey seemed to be the opposite. When he came home this time, Aurelia would be there. He was aware that the queen waiting for him in Redwater was not the same woman she had been when they fell in love all those years ago, but neither was he the same man. Hopefully, they had changed for the better these last few years. Her willingness to come to Redwater and remain there for the time being suggested that perhaps both of them were ready to move beyond the past.

There was a rattling sound at the other end of the tower. When the trap door opened, Henry was surprised to see Thor emerge from the level below. "Good evening," Henry greeted.

"Good evening, sire," Thor replied, straightening his robes as he reached the top of the ladder. "Sir Malcolm thought I might find you here."

"He probably did not anticipate finding me sitting on the floor up here."

"You would have to do far more than that to shock me, Majesty," the Asgard said with the slightest hint of humor. "Do not forget, Queen Elizabeth is quite young. I began to tutor her when she probably would rather have been climbing trees than sitting down to learn. Sometimes I think that desire is still in her."

"She is young," Henry agreed while the little priest came over and sat next to him. "It has been ten years since her father died, correct?" Thor nodded, and Henry continued, "I thought so. It was nine years ago that I was crowned king."

"Neither of you were born to the positions you find yourselves in," Thor remarked. "I suppose she spent more than half her life thus far being prepared for it, but when she was born I believe there was an expectation that there would be a male heir. It was not for some time that anyone seriously considered that Princess Elizabeth would one day be Queen Elizabeth."

"I thought the law in Atalan allowed for an heiress apparent."

Thor shook his head. "Until the day Queen Margaret gave birth to her last child, Elizabeth was the heiress presumptive. Atalan's law still gives preference to a male child."

"Better than in Caldora, where preference is given to men exclusively," Henry mused. "When I die, my daughter's husband will inherit the crown. Before our last battle, one of my noblemen insisted that I could not join the fighting, because of the chaos that would ensue if I were killed. I am loathe to push Carolyn into marrying, but I think she knows she must sooner rather than later. Not having an heir is dangerous for a king."

"It strikes me as peculiar, my lord, that you should be appointed at all, given that your only child cannot inherit the throne herself."

Henry opened his mouth to say it was strange that Thor did not know more of this subject, but he supposed that the Asgard had been occupied with other things in recent years. "I had a son," he said quietly. "He was killed a few years ago. There was an accident with a horse."

"I am sorry," Thor offered, after a moment of respectful silence.

Henry nodded. Time had made it easier to speak of William's death, but he knew it would never be a welcome topic for him. "Ironically, I believe William may have been part of the reason I was appointed in the first place," he said. "It was in the middle of the Ori campaign. There were several noblemen who did not know if they still had sons. William was only seven years old."

There was a deep silence between them as the darkness grew, their surroundings lit only by a sliver of moon up above. Henry was beginning to wonder if Thor had had some reason to seek him out or if he'd just wanted to chat, which seemed rather unlikely, when the Asgard spoke again. "I have often wondered about our decisions when it came to the Ori," he said carefully, as always. "For all our learning, for all our inventions, the Asgard cannot turn back the tide. Our leaders then knew we could not defeat the Ori, but I wonder if we should not have stood against them anyway."

Henry looked down at the stone roof beneath his feet and sighed. "I have often wondered if Caldora should not have done what Atalan did," he replied. "If it would not have been better for us to refuse and suffer the same way. But, Master Thor, there are two things I have come to accept."

"Yes, Majesty?"

"I cannot change the past. What's done is done, and debating decisions which can never be reversed is not useful," Henry said. "And it was not I who made the decision to send our men and boys to war. No more than it was Queen Elizabeth's decision to stand and fight."

"Both decisions cost many lives," Thor remarked.

"Yes," Henry replied. "It is one of many things our countries have in common, whether we care to admit it or not."


	3. The Summit (3/4): stargate_ren

  
For Cameron, the morning conferences proved more trying as the days passed. While the logistics of foreign aid would never have caused Cameron to jump out of his chair in excitement, at least it was relevant to the here and now. The discussion of vague futures in trade seemed an insult both to the beautiful weather outside and to the situation awaiting him at home. Cameron longed to be in Cheyenne to help John assuage the distress of their people. He stifled a sigh and wrested his attention back to the conversation at hand, where the two sovereigns were consulting over a carefully drawn map laid out on the table.

"Improvement of the roads through the eastern hill country should not prove too challenging an obstacle in the matter of trade," King Henry was saying. "Although my first goal will be a little bit of outer reinforcement, so to speak. As you are well aware, our country's defenses are woefully inadequate."

Queen Elizabeth was leaning forward, paying attention with convincing interest. Not that Cameron supposed her to be a superficial listener, but he couldn't imagine anyone could absorb every hour of every meeting with such enthusiasm. She gave a slight nod. "Our mutual circumstances are not all that different. The college and I have discussed means of improving our infrastructure, once our plans for the navy have been satisfied."

"To that end," Henry said, "if we're speaking of defense, then what concerns me more is the lack of swift passage along the western half of our border. The danger lies there, as we have been so severely reminded."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I have not forgotten," she said. "What is it that you suggest?"

Henry leaned forward. "Courier routes, at least two, well-maintained and well-manned through the western ranges. A strong trail could cut the mountain passage in half for a traveler on foot, if not more."

At this, Lord Jonathan leaned forward too. "Your Majesty, I would be in strong favor of such a measure."

The queen gave a quiet smile. "Of that, Jack, I have no doubt."

"It wouldn't be that difficult, either," Jonathan – Jack, the lady called him – continued, glancing between the two monarchs, though he kept his sights primarily on his queen. "At least not in construction. There are already paths, so to speak, but a shrewd engineer could improve them with some finesse. Maybe some shoring here and there, a few staircases, a couple of bridges in key places to save time."

"Bridges can even be designed as a defense measure in their own right," Henry pointed out.

Jack nodded eagerly. "As far as manpower goes, however," he said, leaning back again and crossing his arms. "That's an entirely different kettle of fish."

Cameron caught the king's eye, and both men exchanged suppressed but knowing grins.

The queen, however, noticed their amusement. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

Henry chuckled. "Your knight errant has gained quite a reputation in the counsels of the king for using expressions foreign to Caldoran ears," he said. "Such as 'a different kettle of fish', or 'knock the wind out of their sails'."

"I am afraid I cannot be blamed for the latter," she said with a small smile. "Lord John spent some time on a merchant ship before he ever arrived in Atalan."

Cameron blinked, not having known that information before now, but Henry only laughed again before turning his attention back to the map. "As far as manning the routes," he said, sitting up a bit and catching the eye of Cameron and Sir Malcolm in turn, "this may be the right time to bring up another matter, one which does not concern Atalan directly, but indirectly it may play a part in what we're discussing."

"And that is?" she asked, her expression wary.

"What does your Majesty know of the people who call themselves the Sodan?"

Elizabeth was clearly surprised by the question. She glanced at Jack. "They're mercenaries of some kind, am I correct?" she asked with a slight hesitation, before returning her attention to Henry. "I've read mention of them in the scattered reports we receive of your battles."

Cameron bristled slightly, but he kept enough of a rein on his reaction that he hoped the Atalan party wouldn't notice. Jack’s eyes flitted to him briefly but he gave no other reaction. Henry, too, eyed Cameron before addressing the queen. "I suppose in the strictest sense of the word, and even this particular case, you could put it that way." He nodded at Cameron. "Lord Mitchell is a great friend to the Sodan. He is better suited to be their voice at this table."

It was all Cameron could do to keep from staring at the king, dumbfounded. That the Sodan had rescued him in the battle and saved his life of course was something the king would know, and he would not have been surprised if King Henry was aware of his friendship with Jolan. But he'd had no notion of being given the task to speak of them to the Queen of Atalan.

It was not, however, difficult to find his tongue with respect to the door the king had pushed open for him. "Mercenary is far too base a name to call them, my lady," he said. "They are a nation of great dignity and great tradition, very proud but very honorable." He shifted slightly. "Once they counted themselves part of the Jaffa, but history has given them their own birthright and now they find themselves a people displaced."

Elizabeth seemed utterly fascinated. "The way you speak of them, Lord Mitchell, I feel sorry not to know them. But what have they to do with the matter of our shared border?" she asked, turning the question back to Henry with deft expertise.

The king met her scrutiny with unflinching eyes. "The help of the Sodan was instrumental in our successful campaign against the Goa'uld, but it did not come without a price. They have been promised a piece of my country. There is still much to be debated, but it is possible that they would find themselves along some part of our border."

There was a frozen moment of silence before the queen said simply, "I see." It was clear to everyone, including Cameron (who still felt woefully obtuse in most such matters), that the queen meant a great deal by those two noncommittal words.

"If that were the case," Cameron finally dared to speak up, trying to point the conversation back the way it had begun, "I have no doubt the Sodan would be willing to help guard and maintain these footpaths you're proposing."

Elizabeth considered his words but her response was cool. "It would not be worth doing if the asset could not be properly safeguarded. I would not wish the convenience of Atalan or Caldora to be turned against us by the Goa'uld or any other enemy. And it would certainly need to be a joint endeavor, fully committed to by all parties concerned."

She caught Henry's eye at the last and he nodded firmly. "Of course, my lady," he said. "I couldn't agree more."

The queen's expression relaxed somewhat. "As far as financing goes," she glanced between Lady Katherine and Jack as if thinking aloud. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Tok'ra would be willing to help. They're often complaining over the length of the journey cross country."

"For all their usefulness as allies the Tok'ra do not share this border, your Majesty," Henry was swift to point out. "I would feel uncomfortable giving influence on such a key matter of security and defense to any party not directly affected."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, for a moment clearly geared for full, verbal battle, but then stopped and closed her mouth with obvious deliberation. To Cameron's extreme surprise, she laughed. "Just look at us," she said. "Already putting the cart before the horse." Her eyes twinkled. "Did the Marquis of Sheppard teach you that expression as well?"

"He did not. Shocking as it may seem, my lady, the Talas range is not the only thing that our countries share."

"I find that that inspires hope, King Henry. What say you to that?"

"I agree."

Cameron looked between them, trying not to shake his head. For a split second, they'd been on the verge of circling like warring tom cats; now, they seemed like old friends.

He really did not understand politics.

* * *

  
When the session broke up for dinner, Jack watched as the others dispersed, abandoning the conference room for the open air of the courtyard. He caught Thor's eye, however, and lingered.

The door shut behind the others, and Thor seemed to sigh. It was always hard to tell with the Asgard but Jack had spent enough time among them, and away from royal courts and their home, to see them in unguarded moments. "I do not believe that travel suits you as well as it once did, Master Thor," Jack remarked.

Thor blinked once. "I have never much liked being away from home, but it has been a necessary evil at times." He cocked his head to one side. "But I would be careful with such comments. Queen Elizabeth does not look as though travel has suited her well, and she has not my excuse of miles or years."

"Or warfare," Jack added in agreement. "I have been meaning to ask you about your latest time on the battlefield for some days now."

Thor returned to his chair. "Truthfully, Lord Jonathan, it was one of the more brutal campaigns I have ever seen, and I witnessed the Battle of the Bridge," he replied slowly. "I was there when the Tok'ra fought to free you from Ba'al. I was there when a few hundred Jaffa stood against Ra's tens of thousands. This was bloody and difficult, and the Caldorans should not have won."

"I had wondered," Jack replied, coming around the table to sit where Elizabeth had, on Thor's left. "Was it as Sheppard told us, that Caldora had lost too many generations to the Ori?"

Thor nodded once. "Do not be mistaken, Lord Jonathan. They are a proud people, and not without cause. They are made of steel, and will not flinch."

"How much of the outcome may be attributed to your gunpowder?" Jack asked, genuinely curious.

"It is difficult to say," Thor replied. "Something else was holding them back. Something else may have made them run."

Jack nodded absently, for once knowing more than the High Priest of the Asgard. Elizabeth had written to Ba'al, warning him of Osiris' death and Anubis' treachery. Despite Jack's deeply personal hatred of Ba'al, he had to admit that Elizabeth's tactic had been precisely the right thing to do. She had probably saved thousands of lives by following her instincts.

But no one's instincts were infallible.

"I know you dislike the hypothetical," Jack began, "but how do you think Atalan might have fared had the Goa'uld crossed the mountains instead of the river?"

Thor was a long time answering, and when he did so it was with even more deliberation than usual. "The mountains would have proved a strain on even the strongest army," he said. "They would not have had the momentum they had in attacking Caldora. But would you have prevailed? I doubt it."

The words seemed to send a chill down Jack's spine. He had been concerned about this very topic for a while now, but hearing his own fears voiced by someone of Thor's experience and understanding was more troubling. While he agreed with Elizabeth that the protection of the coast and the rebuilding of the navy was a critical part of protecting the nation as a whole, Atalan shared far more of her borders with other nations than she shared with the Wraith and the sea. Elizabeth could not ignore the defense of the rest of the country simply because of Atlantis' proximity to the sea.

He thought about the gunpowder demonstration again, and how Elizabeth had paled. "Did King Henry hesitate when you offered to use this new weapon of yours against the Goa'uld?" he asked.

"He did not know its full capabilities," Thor replied, shaking his head. "I assured him that it would be effective in inducing fear and chaos, if nothing else, but that the weapon could be used but once." Thor's eyes narrowed. "But you are not asking about King Henry. You are concerned about your own sovereign."

"You saw how she reacted," Jack pointed out. "She was horrified."

"As well she should be," Thor replied coolly. "Sometimes I wonder if such decisions are not best left in the hands of those who have never shed blood." When Jack started to object, Thor raised his hand. "You have killed, Lord Jonathan, many times. To you this is merely another instrument of war. To her... if she chooses to order the use of this, then she has become an instrument of death. She is not like you in that respect. I do not know if she is capable of believing that some things are necessary evils."

All of this did nothing to assuage Jack's concerns on the matter. In many ways it was exactly what he feared. Elizabeth had to learn to detach herself from these matters and to think of Atalan's interests before her own. Ideally, the two would often be the same, but the truth remained that sometimes she would have to do distasteful things in order to ward off a greater calamity.

The door to the room opened again before Jack could speak, and Kate appeared on the other side. "Lord Jonathan, Master Thor, will you not join us?" she asked.

"We will," Thor said, getting to his feet again. "You must forgive us. We have not had much time to talk in several months."

Kate smiled as she answered, but Jack avoided her eyes. He knew now that he had something to accomplish, and it might not be the most pleasant task.

* * *

  
When evening fell, Cameron was relieved to escape the confines of the conference room after another round of talks had filled the afternoon. Rather than joining the king in their quarters, where he would feel pressure to remain for the rest of the night, he took to the outside courtyard with relish, pulling on his collar like a small boy freed from his schoolmaster. He breathed in deeply. Though his ribs still protested some, he relished the cool, damp, open air. He walked the perimeter to the rough shelter on the far end that housed the horses of both parties. He ducked inside, momentarily wishing he'd thought to bring a torch or a lamp. There was just enough light for him to find a currycomb that seemed almost as old as the fortress itself, though it was still serviceable.

He found Egeus easily enough. The horse seemed pleased to see him. Cameron was almost equally relieved. Here at least was someone he felt at ease with.

"Hey there, boy," he said, giving the horse's flanks a strong, fond pat before he found his head. "How's it been going down here? I bet you get along more naturally than we do."

Egeus whinnied softly, nuzzling Cameron's hair for sugar. "Sorry, boy, I'm afraid we're barely able to feed ourselves. Rather pathetic, really," he said, reaching up and scratching the horse's long forehead. "I can give you a good rubdown, though. I don't think you've had one for a while. But don't worry," he added as he began brushing. "We're leaving the day after tomorrow, I think."

In the dark, Cameron worked silently for a few minutes, lost in thought. He wondered for what felt the hundredth time what the king's purpose had been in bringing him here. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the importance of what was taking place, but there were several dozen others in Caldora just as suitable, if not more so, and Cameron had other things to which he should be attending.

But John had commanded him here. Cameron gritted his teeth. This was the wrong time, the wrong place. He wasn't entirely sure he respected the king's decision to come here at all. Caldora needed its king at home, not gallivanting off to curry favor with a country that had not exactly been the greatest friend over the years. Just because Queen Elizabeth had given them aid didn't mean they needed to heed every snap of her fingers. It wasn't a situation that sat well with Cameron.

He'd been trying for the past two days to comprehend why the slightest mention of this woman would incite such a strong loyalty John, to the point that he regarded himself more loyal to the crown of Atalan than to his own people. Cameron could acknowledge that John had been deeply hurt by his exile, but how could that drive him to place such steadfast, fervid devotion to Atalan instead? If circumstances were to merit it, such as they had to Henry all those years ago, would she too not dismiss even one of her own out of political need, let alone one who was not even a native son?

He could see no virtue in Elizabeth as a monarch that he did not find in his own ruler. She seemed distant to Cameron. Closed. Intelligent, yes, but inexperienced. Vulnerable. She did not possess Henry's years and experience. Just because she hadn't had time to make choices she might later regret didn't mean they weren't coming. Surely John knew that.

Dimly, Cameron became aware that someone was approaching. Someone with a torch. He could tell by the way the shadows sharpened and danced on the walls as the light increased around him. Suddenly, the small stable was dazzling as someone stepped in through the doorway.

"Lord Mitchell?"

Blinking slightly, Cameron turned to perceive Jack of Neill standing just over the threshold, eyeing him with a question in his face. He nodded his head respectfully. "Is there something you require of me, sir?" he asked.

"No. We just did not know for certain your whereabouts, is all."

"Without braving the territory of a foreign land alone at night, there are hardly many places I could have gone," said Cameron wryly, resuming his ministrations to Egeus.

"True." Out of the corner of his eye, Cameron saw Jack move further into the room. He turned back just in time to see the older lord mount his torch carefully in the wall bracket and come to join him.

"Beautiful beast," he said, rubbing Egeus's hindquarters appreciatively. "Reminds me of Lord John's mount, Silvanus."

Cameron nodded. "They share a sire."

"And did Silvanus too survive the war?"

"Yes."

"That's good to know."

A stilted silence descended. Cameron sensed there was something particular that the older man wished to speak of, but he was weary of games and guessing motives. He remained silent, albeit respectfully. Though he was feeling a combination of morose and petulant, he didn't think that King Henry would appreciate it if he started snapping without cause at the head of the Atalanian army.

The silence did not last, for Jack rocked back on his heels and spoke to the point. "Lord Mitchell, there is a question I would like to pose of you."

Cameron took a deep, steady breath. "I will answer if it is not a compromise to my country, my lord."

"Of course. What was your opinion, Lord Mitchell, of the demonstration given us by the Asgard on the night of our arrival?"

Cameron stiffened, slightly thrown off guard. It wasn't a question he'd anticipated, exactly, though perhaps he should have. Very little had been said about the powder demonstration. It was clear that the royals were dancing around the issue as if they treaded on a keg of the stuff in question.

"I think it was an effective demonstration," he said quietly, "but believe me when I tell you that it failed to convey the full destructive power the Asgard have managed to harness with it."

"I may be simple, but I am no simpleton," said Jack frankly. "Despite what some of my peers wish to believe back home," he added under his breath. "I may not have witnessed firsthand this destructive capability you speak of, but I am well capable of fitting the pieces of evidence together, Lord Mitchell."

"Then what exactly do you wish to know of me?" Cameron asked with an effort at patience.

"Your opinion on the greater ramifications."

Cameron glanced at him. "You fear your queen may deny your country this knowledge," he said slowly, "out of fear or... some ideal of virtue."

Jack voiced neither affirmation nor denial, but met Cameron's eye with steadfast confirmation.

Cameron held the look for a long time before resuming his brushing. "There are a dozen good arguments for pursuing the mastery of the gunpowder," he said.

"And believe me, I know them all."

"Your queen seems reasonable. Surely she must bow to the wisdom of keeping on equal footing with her enemies."

"I do not doubt that she may be persuaded," said Jack with a quiet sigh. "What I fear is a hesitation toward that end that may cost us precious time. The queen does not agree with me on this point, but sometimes the ends justify the means."

Cameron stopped his brushing. After a long moment, he said softly, "I was not awake when they fired the cannon. But my squire told me of it. He said that it is a fearful thing, that the blast is deafening and the aftermath blinding." He swallowed, remembering the grim expression on Nicholas' face as he spoke of the explosion. "It feels as though the gods themselves are raining down their wrath. If you were to find yourself in the wrong position on the battlefield there is no defense, no training that could save you."

The other man's eyes were piercing. "Have you ever felt an anger so keen as to wish to wield that kind of power?"

Cameron thought immediately of Cheyenne. Of the things he had seen with his eyes not five days ago, things he had been ripped away from prematurely. "Yes," he said.

Jack stared at him for a long time before he said, "Should an opportunity arise, do not feel you are out of bounds to tell her Majesty of it," he said. "She respects all opinions, particularly of those with experience beyond her own."

Then he turned and walked away. Though Jack had said nothing overtly underhanded, Cameron couldn't shake the strange feeling that he'd just been laid down as the trump in a game he did not understand.

* * *

  
All night Jack wondered if he'd done the right thing in speaking to young Cameron. In the last few days he'd wondered what had driven King Henry to bring such a political ingénue to this summit, but for now he was grateful. He needed someone that artless in order to convince Elizabeth. If she had a weakness, it was an honest appeal.

On the final evening, the subject at last arose in a roundabout way. Elizabeth had been asking questions about the destruction in Caldora, which Sir Malcolm had been answering, primarily. He had scouted portions of western Caldora in order to report back to the king on the state of the country. At the moment, King Henry seemed all right with his intelligence officer sharing that information with a foreign monarch.

Eventually, Elizabeth sighed. "My lord," she said to the king, "on the day we arrived, the Asgard demonstrated their powder to us, and you said it has been used against people. What did you mean?"

"Just that," King Henry replied, shifting in his seat. "The Asgard used it in some sort of weapon and fired into the Goa'uld army. I believe it ended the battle."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It should not be used thus," she said gravely. "That kind of force – it is not right."

"My lady, I would argue that it saved my country from wholesale slaughter," the king replied. "To be sure, we would rather be wiped out than be enslaved, but we were given another option. I am not ashamed that we took it."

"Is that the only time you would use such a weapon?" she pressed. "Or would you find it a useful expedient in a battle where you are more evenly matched?"

"A hypothetical is hardly useful, Majesty," Jack put in gently.

"In a situation like this, a hypothetical is all we have," she retorted. "But these things will happen. I find it better to have an answer before being presented with a problem. Do you not?"

"The Goa'uld have already seen it," Lord Mitchell said, before Jack could speak.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" Elizabeth prompted.

Cameron looked uncomfortable, but Jack could see him gathering himself for this debate. "The Goa'uld have already seen it," he repeated. "We may prefer to think of them as barbarians, but they are not. Before long they may well develop this gunpowder on their own."

"And moral objections will not stop them from using it," Sir Malcolm added.

"Besides," the king put in, "the Asgard may well have other uses for this new mischief of theirs, uses that have nothing to do with war."

Cameron leaned forward on the table, looking Elizabeth right in the eye this time. "My lady, a few days ago I spoke to you of the destruction in Cheyenne," he said. "I am not sure I conveyed the fullest extent of what happened. There is nothing left in the city save the fortress, and it cannot house everyone. People are sleeping out in the open with nothing over their heads. There is not enough food. People are going to die, and there is nothing we can do to stop that. And they're terrified that the Goa'uld will come back to finish them off."

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, who had gone pale. The expression on her face mirrored the look he'd seen when she saw the destroyed village of Hoff all those months ago. Her horror and revulsion then had spurred her into action, and Jack hoped that that would drive her here as well.

"What if the Goa'uld were to strike again next spring?" Lord Mitchell continued. "We will hardly be ready for it then, and what if they have this terrible weapon in their arsenal? We would have no defense whatsoever, not even our fortresses.

"I understand your hesitation," he concluded. "This weapon is a terrifying thing, but will not the ends justify the means?"

Suddenly Elizabeth fixed her gaze on Jack. He fought the urge to wince. He had used those words, almost exactly, in speaking with Cameron the night before. He had used that phrase around Elizabeth in times past too. The words were not remarkable, but Jack had a terrible feeling that she recognized them as his.

When Elizabeth looked away, Jack stole a glance at Cameron, who looked profoundly uncomfortable again. But this time it was Kate who broke the silence. "Majesty, what about the Wraith?" she asked. "I am no expert in these matters, but I can only imagine that this would be an inestimable advantage over them."

The three Caldorans looked dreadfully curious about this, but they held their tongues. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. Her posture relaxed a little, and Jack could see her resignation. "I know," she said quietly. "I don't like it, but I know."

"This is something which will require a formal agreement between our two countries," King Henry said, clearly sensing her acquiescence. "I suspect a trade of some sort would be in order. I understand your army has no mounted archers, and we might be able to help train such a force."

"My lord, this will make your archers obsolete," Elizabeth said lowly.

The two sovereigns exchanged a look, one that carried too many things that no one else in the room could truly comprehend. "I know," the king replied at length. "But perhaps not for a while."

The sobering discourse waned into broader matters. Between them, Elizabeth and Henry managed somehow to summarize all they had talked on for the last three days, but Elizabeth's eyes occasionally sought out Jack with faint warnings and a little bit of curious hurt. When both parties rose to their feet and made a formal farewell, Jack was not surprised when Elizabeth asked him to stay behind.

"My lady?" asked Kate, hesitating in the doorway, looking between them.

"Go on, Kate, I shall be along shortly."

Kate departed, and after one quick, wordless command, Captain Lorne shut the door after her. Elizabeth turned to Jack. "I was unaware you felt so passionately on the matter of these new arms," she said quietly.

"I do not see why you should be surprised," he responded, shifting slightly. He returned her stern expression with no apology. "I could see after the Asgard demonstration that your feelings, too, were strong. I would have hoped that such a critical development would have warranted my input. It's been three days. Why did you not seek me out before the issue came to the table?"

Her eyes narrowed with hurt. "Is that truly what you would have preferred?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your argument is a two-edged sword, Jack. If you were so keen to perceive that this might be a point of contention between us, then you could have as easily sought _my_ council. But perhaps you thought this counterproductive."

"Counterproductive?" he repeated, trying to keep his ire in check. She was talking about him as though he were Kinsey or one of his ilk.

Elizabeth stepped forward. "You goaded Lord Mitchell into speaking up, didn't you? You and he were alone last night out in the stable. Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"

Jack said nothing, only stared back at her, wondering how she could have made such a deduction so conclusively. He wasn't quite ready yet to confirm she was right.

Almost as if she sensed his question, she continued. "You knew what had happened at Cheyenne, or guessed," she said. "You knew what comparisons I would draw. From the very first day at this table Lord Mitchell has been unsure in his voice. Did you think I would not recognize your words on his lips?"

With a slight wince, Jack licked his lips. So that was it. He met her gaze levelly. "I did not goad him," he said. "Or persist or coerce. I merely made a suggestion."

"How could you?"

"How could I not?" he challenged. "Elizabeth, I believed you were prepared to deny Atalan an advancement in warcraft that would _certainly_ prove a very fatal error in the future, merely for the sake of moral superiority. I admire your convictions, but you do not have the experience necessary to make the right decision in this."

"So you take it upon yourself to make my choices now?" she asked. "Jack, I'm not foolish. Do you really think I can't be made to see reason? But you would deny me the chance to discuss it at all! Just because we can do nothing to change a necessary evil does not make it a waste of our time to at least take a moment to look it in the face and remind ourselves of what it is! In the presence of the King of Caldora and the High Priest of the Asgard, no less! But you cut the opportunity out from under me!"

He bit his tongue, truly humbled by this perspective. He was too frustrated, uncomfortable, and defensive right now, though, to confess it.

"Besides," said Elizabeth, her voice quieting a fraction, "I am not angry with you for having a different opinion than mine, Jack. For goodness' sake, you should know better than that by now. I'm angry because you went behind my back. Why would you do that?" The hurt in her voice was too much to bear. "Not only that, but you brought Lord Mitchell into it. You deliberately forced him to relive his pain for your own agenda. How could you do something like that? He's barely more than a child!"

At this, Jack could hold his tongue no longer. His eyes shot wide with incredulity, he almost shouted back at her, "Elizabeth, _you_ are barely more than a child!"

Her shock was quick to match his, and she stepped back. A stunned silence filled the room. To his recollection, Jack had never before raised his voice at Elizabeth.

He peered closely at her. She stood stock still, her face tight, her eyes distant, as if she tried to move or function she would lose all control. He sighed, suddenly weary and fixed his eyes firmly on a corner of the floor before daring to speak. "I apologize, my lady," he said. "Everything you have said is of merit. I should have sought your council when you did not seek mine. That was my own pride." He looked up and was relieved that she was looking at him again. After a moment of hesitation, he added, "But I implore you to be careful who you call a child. I am relieved you will likely know nothing of battle in your lifetime, my lady, but believe me that whatever childhood that young man may have had before this war is now long dead."

He walked out of the room, a tumult of warring emotion that could barely be contained.  



	4. The Summit (4/4): stargate_ren

  
Knowing that they would be leaving sometime the next day, Kate went down into the kitchen to clean up what she could. She was unsurprised to find Malcolm already there. He smiled at her, and as they had done the last few days, they worked together to tidy the kitchen.

They had taken to telling each other stories about their homes as they worked, and this evening was no exception. Through him she learned about her southern neighbor, just as he certainly learned from her. This evening, though, he seemed intent on making her laugh. Once she had to stop work to wipe tears from her eyes as he related a tale from his own youth, of how a man in his village had thought Malcolm had been dallying with his daughter. Malcolm's sisters had hidden him by dressing him in their clothes, which deception had ended in very bad and predictable ways.

Drawing a shaky breath and still smiling, she asked, "And had you taken advantage of the young lady, sir?"

"I'm not sure I'd ever laid eyes on the girl, let alone laid hands on her," Malcolm replied with a mischievous smile.

That sent Kate into a renewed fit of giggles, from which she did not recover until there was a light rap on the door frame. As she composed herself, she was startled to see Marcus standing there, watching her. The expression on his face was shuttered and cold and it brought to mind all manner of things Kate had been attempting not to dwell on lately.

Kate sobered quickly, and Malcolm asked, "Captain, can we help you?"

"I came to speak to Lady Katherine," he said, turning to her. "It grows late. Master Stackhouse can finish cleaning here if you wish to begin packing, my lady."

"Then I shall bid you good night,” Malcolm said politely to Kate, turning to her and appearing to forget that the captain was standing in the doorway. Kate could not help but note the implicit dismissal, nor could she miss that Marcus remained, waiting for her. Malcolm took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Thank you for your help, my lady. I will miss your company most gravely on our journey home."

Kate curtsied to him and stammered out the most polite reply she could manage, acutely aware of the man glaring in the door. She departed swiftly, climbing the stairs, but Marcus followed behind her. Once they were out of earshot of the kitchen, he remarked lowly, "I don't think I've ever seen you laugh like that."

She stiffened. He left unspoken the words "with anyone else" but she heard them clear as a bell. Only with him had she ever been so unguarded with a man. Of course, few other men of her acquaintance were as honest and uncalculating as the Caldoran gentleman. "Sir Malcolm is quite a storyteller," she said coldly. Anger simmered within her. Was she to suffer Marcus' jealousy for the rest of her life? It had been his choice to walk away from her and whatever had been between them. She would not endure this kind of behavior from him compliantly.

Marcus opened his mouth to speak again, but their eyes met and he closed off completely.

They walked the rest of the way to the tower and up to the third level in silence. Marcus opened the doors for her, but aside from that he barely acknowledged her presence. With a frustrated sigh, once she was alone she started packing.

When Elizabeth came back, she seemed very tired. "I'm almost done, my lady," Kate said. "I can finish this up myself. You look as though you should already be abed."

Elizabeth nodded and picked up her nightgown. Kate stopped what she was doing to help Elizabeth undress. "What were you and Jack talking about?" she asked, wishing to take her mind off her own troubles.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I do not want to discuss it, Kate," she replied, sounding upset. This alarmed Kate more than a little, but she didn't know how to respond. "I'm only glad we will be home soon."

Kate had been feeling the same longing for Atlantis in recent weeks, so she could sympathize. Home would bring other challenges, she was sure, but sleeping in her own bed sounded lovely. And perhaps, with their old routine back in place, she might not feel as though she was spending more of her time avoiding Marcus than doing her work.

As she unlaced Elizabeth's corset and helped her out of it, she said, "Marcus and I spoke tonight. I still feel so awkward around him."

Elizabeth let out a harsh sigh. "Kate, do not come to me for sympathy," she retorted, with more energy than Kate expected. "You could have been happy with him. I had given my consent to your marriage. You chose this path for yourself."

Kate was so startled by that that she just stood there, staring at her friend's back. Not since Kate had first told her of Marcus' desire to court her had Elizabeth given any commentary on the matter. She'd expected compassion, not accusation. What in the world had happened to drive her to say anything at all, let alone something like that? How long had Elizabeth felt that Kate had done something wrong?

They had not spoken of it since before the Caldorans arrived, but some part of Kate wondered if the bitterness in the queen's voice had to do with who had not come to meet with her, no matter how good his excuse. But Elizabeth did not say things she did not mean.

Once Elizabeth was changed into her nightgown, she helped Kate do the same, but they did not make eye contact with each other. Kate went back to packing their clothing while Elizabeth went to bed. She lay on her side, something Elizabeth rarely did, facing away from Kate as though she did not want to be seen.

Even from across the room she could tell that Elizabeth was still awake. Kate knew she could try to talk to Elizabeth, try to get her to divulge what had passed between her and Jack, try to talk with her about the situation with Marcus. And yet, as she looked at Elizabeth's back, she was weary, and more than a little hurt.

Quietly Kate changed into her nightgown and settled down on her pallet. Surely this would keep.

* * *

  
Malcolm finished bundling up the kitchen supplies and surveyed the tiny room one last time, smiling fondly before he turned away, taking the last candle with him. After that, it was a short trip out to the stables to tuck the supplies into the various saddlebags, with enough for a quick breakfast on the road within easy reach. Then he returned to the tower and climbed the six flights of stairs to the chamber he was sharing with Lord Mitchell and the king.

"We're all set," he informed them when he'd shut the door behind him. "We should be well on the road by noon." He set the candle on the rickety table that was the room's only piece of proper furniture.

The king was stoking the fire and Mitchell was already sitting on his pallet in the far corner, polishing his boots. As he had the first two nights they'd stayed here, Malcolm felt the supreme oddity of sharing a chamber with the king. Malcolm valued protocol. It just didn't seem right to converse with one's king when he was wearing his nightshirt.

Henry finished with the fire and straightened. "Good," he said in reply to Malcolm's news. "It's high time we were back. Though I do confess, this little escapade has been the closest thing I've had to a holiday since I took the crown."

Malcolm peered closely at the king's face. He was clearly exhausted, but such had been the case for the last three months. What gratified Malcolm to see was a new, quiet peace in Henry's eyes as well. He was relieved that the war was over, yes, but this break from all conventional routine had been extremely good for his state of mind. It was a consequence Malcolm had not considered before now, but he was no less grateful for it.

Mitchell seemed dubious. "A holiday?" he repeated. "My lord, with all due respect, we've done nothing but sit in a room and discuss politics for three days, after which you always seemed as happy as a cat on mousing day. You'll forgive me, but while I acknowledge the import, I somehow failed to find the appeal."

Henry gave a long, hearty chuckle. "I know you'll find this hard to believe, Lord Mitchell, but the strides we've made in the past three days can sometimes take the better part of decades. If there was a reason for my giddiness, it was that."

"And what are your conclusions of the girl-queen of our most high-handed neighbors, Highness?" Malcolm asked with more than a touch of sarcasm, taking a seat on his bedroll and pulling off his boots. He set them on the floor beside his sword. The queen of Atalan might be young in years but she was smarter than most men twice her age already. Malcolm had seen enough to know this young woman was as shrewd a politician as he had ever come across.

The king lapsed into pensive silence for a moment. "I have long hoped, based on her letters, that she was someone I could genuinely respect," he said at last. "Despite her youth, I am pleased to say that a personal acquaintance has done nothing to diminish that hope. To be frank, I'm most impressed with her obvious willingness to learn beyond her experience, and the fact that she shows no shame in ignorance, only humility. Atalan will do very well under her hand, and I think we can safely trust that Caldora would in no way rankle during her reign, either."

Malcolm smiled. "I liked her too," he said simply, causing the king to laugh.

"As well as you liked Lady Katherine?" Henry added with a tease, raising his eyebrows in Malcolm's direction.

Malcolm responded with a guilty smile and a shrug. "You weren't the only one who had a holiday of sorts," he acknowledged. He would miss the hours of toiling in the kitchen solely for the loss of the company of such a beautiful and intelligent woman. "It's been a long time since I shared such pleasant companionship. She is a sweet lady; I wish her the best." He sensed some pain shadowing Kate's heart, and it had been a pleasure to relieve her with his ramblings when he could. She was spirited and kind. He hoped she might find a gentleman worthy of her somewhere.

"Well, why don't you ask permission to write to her, son? What's stopping you?" Clearly, the king was intent on taking more than his fair share of entertainment at Malcolm's expense in this matter.

"No," he said, in earnest protest. "Nothing of that sort, I assure you, my lord." He added slyly, "The lady only reminded me that there is more to life than doing the king's bidding."

"Hmmph," came Henry's response, though there was a twinkle in his eye. He eyed Malcolm warily. "I would be gravely affronted if that weren't true. You do work too hard. I suppose some of that is my fault." The king stretched and yawned. "Well, so long as you didn't leave a maiden with a broken heart behind to spoil our great endeavor here."

"I do not think that is the case, my lord."

"Well enough." The king turned to the younger man. "And what of you, Lord Mitchell?"

"My lord?" Mitchell started.

King Henry settled himself and folded his arms. "What are your thoughts on the ladies of Atalan?"

"They seem lovely and congenial ladies, my lord. And quite beautiful, yes."

Henry became highly amused. "For someone who claims to loathe all things political, that was a very carefully constructed answer, Lord Mitchell," he said.

Mitchell shrugged, and looked up at the king with a slightly proud expression. "I would prefer to keep my eyes on a lady closer to home. Beautiful the queen and her companion may be, but I believe they are far surpassed by the women of Caldora."

This seemed to only increase the entertainment for the king. "Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows high. "Such as?"

Mitchell's eyes widened briefly and he blushed. "No lady in particular, sir," he stammered, polishing the toe of his left boot with increased vigor. "But are there not many ladies in our country whose beauty would rival Elizabeth of Atalan? Before my mother died, she was considered the most beautiful lady in all of Sheppard, in body and soul. Although, I admit, there were some who would have chosen my aunt first. It was a choice worthy of a hero's quest."

"I knew your aunt and your mother both, son," the king said with a kind smile. "You need not waste your breath trying to convince me of that truth."

"There is also Janet Frasier," Mitchell put forth. "Who knows more about medicine than most doctors I know, who raised an orphan all by herself. Her daughter, Cassie, is as lovely as she is smart, and her friend Valencia can play scald better than most boys. Valencia also protected her younger brother from the abuse of a drunken, good-for-nothing father. These are the women I know, my lord king. I defy anyone to find me better."

The king smiled. "Your words warm my heart, Lord Mitchell. I too know a couple of very fine Caldoran ladies."

"I find all of this talk very inspirational," Malcolm put in. "How quickly do you think we can hasten our return?"

All three men laughed heartily.

* * *

  
Elizabeth woke feeling stiff the next morning. The damp night air, hard bed, and weeks of travel had hit her all at once, it seemed. The strain of her spat with Kate the previous night hadn't helped, either. She was unsurprised to find herself alone when she woke. In fact, Kate's bedding was gone from the floor. It had already been packed away.

Then she remembered; they were leaving today. Elizabeth sighed and turned over to stare at the weathered beams and stone bracings of the ceiling above her. She didn't really think Kate had left the room out of any kind of spite. She probably just expected Elizabeth to sleep a little longer. But Elizabeth still couldn't help but feel there was something symbolic in the incident. For her part, Elizabeth couldn't decide if she was sorry or not for what she had said to her friend.

Unfortunately, her resentment ran far deeper than the mere disappointment of a monarch and friend. Elizabeth and Kate had both known all of their lives the cold reality of what their marriages would likely be, but Elizabeth had always taken comfort in the thought of using her influence to at least exert some measure of control in the ultimate fortunes of her friends. She could not understand what kind of rift could have been so great that Kate would discard an open road to love. At least, it had seemed to Elizabeth like it was love. Part of her did not feel sorry. After all, she hadn't said anything she hadn't meant.

But she shouldn't have been so spiteful. Today the summit was over, and although John had not come, the sight and presence of his countrymen had brought him closer than she'd realized. The ache of quiet disappointment in her stomach was stronger now than it had been since the Caldoran party had first arrived. She had hoped that it would lessen with the reality, but it had only grown.

Two quiet tears rolled down the sides of Elizabeth's face, and for a wild moment she considered surrendering to the urge to sob. But then she narrowed her eyes, sniffed once, wiped her eyes, and sat up so quickly it made her head swim. When she'd reestablished her sense of balance, she put two feet on the floor and set about to beat down the lonely girl with the duties of a queen.

When Kate returned, Elizabeth had nearly finished dressing herself, but the other woman stepped in to help her finish. She didn't speak. Elizabeth knew her friend well enough to know that this was not merely Kate's usual quiet. This was detachment, and Elizabeth didn't know how to deal with it.

Just as she was finished getting ready, there was a knock on the door and she faintly heard Jack's voice. She tried not to give a start. She still wasn't quite ready to see him; their harsh words had shaken her more than she cared to admit. As it turned out, though, he was seeking her.

"Majesty," he said, coming in when she bade him, "we're nearly ready to depart. We only need to wait on the Caldorans."

Elizabeth nodded. "They're still upstairs."

"I'll go and inform them."

"No," she said. "I'll go."

Captain Lorne followed her at a discreet distance as she climbed the stairs. When Elizabeth reached the top level, she knocked quietly on the door where the three men had been staying. Sir Malcolm answered.

"Your Majesty," he said. He seemed surprised, but he adjusted quickly. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Good morning, Sir Malcolm," she said, nodding her head. "Lord Jonathan wishes me to inform you that all is nearly ready for our joint departure."

"Very good, my lady. We're just about done ourselves."

"Is Lord Mitchell within?"

"He is," said Malcolm. He turned to look behind him, then the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. "He's trying to get his boots on in a hurry. It isn't easy."

As he finished speaking, the young lord himself appeared, glaring at his friend and half bent over, hopping slightly as he tried to finish tugging his left foot into one of his tall boots. "Can't meet a queen at your door in your socks," he grumbled. He ruffled his hair slightly, his cheeks bright pink as he straightened to bow to her properly. "Good morning, your Majesty," he added hastily. "You took us by surprise."

"My apologies, my lord," she said, smiling liberally. It felt good to smile sincerely. "Everyone else was occupied with more practical duties. I thought I'd make myself useful."

There was an awkward pause between them. Malcolm drifted back into the room and Marcus remained a few feet away. Cameron cleared his voice and asked lowly, "Do you have a reply?"

Several times Elizabeth had thought to set pen to parchment, but she couldn't think of what to say. There was so much she wanted to tell John, and at the same time so little she could say in writing, even if she could find the words. She nodded slowly, and then met Cameron's eyes. "Tell him I understand," she said quietly.

Cameron nodded. "Certainly, my lady."

Elizabeth looked around, and this time spoke a little louder. "Where is King Henry?"

The two gentlemen exchanged knowing expressions, almost amused. "He's on the roof again," Malcolm said.

"Truly?" Elizabeth said, almost to herself, looking up as if she could spy the Caldoran king through the stone. "Perhaps I shall go and make my farewell. Good journey to both of you, gentlemen," she said as they bowed. "It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance."

Taking her leave of both of them, Elizabeth made her way slowly up the very last flight of the narrow staircase, blinking into the already hot morning sun as she stepped onto the parapet. She saw King Henry immediately, gazing to the distant south. He turned at the sound of intrusion, but smiled when he saw her. "My lady," he said, bowing. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she returned. A glance at Captain Lorne asked him to hold back, and he nodded his understanding, pausing at the top of the stairwell. She went to stand beside King Henry.

"Homesick?" she asked.

"It is more than a longing," he said, his brow betraying his anxiety. "It's an urging. I think we should have tried for two days instead of three."

"What's done is done, I fear," she said. "I for one feel our time here was more than rewarding. I hope you do not harbor regrets," she said.

He turned to her and smiled sadly. "No," he assured her. "It was a good notion, your Majesty. For that, I laud you. I only wish Caldora were in a stronger position for negotiations than an open hand and a few sheep," he added with a hint of frustration. "And yet," he continued, "I wonder if any circumstances other than this dire need would have brought about the headway that we have made in the last year."

"May I remind you, my lord," she said, "it was you who made the first diplomatic step."

"In secret," he added wryly. "I am an oddity among my people, Queen Elizabeth. And in all fairness, I must point out that such is the case of most Caldorans you have met. John of Sheppard bears no great love for the crown of his fathers, a disillusionment in no small part fostered by myself. I have been most particular in selecting the other Caldorans who have had interaction with your people. I know young Mitchell keeps wondering why on earth I brought him along," he added with a chuckle.

Elizabeth smiled at that, and turned to look down over the green treetops. "I still know so little of your people," she confessed. "From what little I _have_ learned, we seem so similar that it defies logic to think this bad blood should have persisted for so long."

"Atalan has always been wealthier than Caldora," said Henry thoughtfully. "In my mind, riches and acquisition will generally be the root cause of all strife between nations, be they small or great."

"True," Elizabeth conceded.

"Tell me," he said, turning to her curiously, "what do they say of Caldorans in Atalan? I have heard many things, but never from a native of your country."

Elizabeth frowned. "In truth, sir, I may not be the best person to ask such a question, being an oddity in my own right." Here Henry gave a quiet chuckle, but allowed Elizabeth to proceed. "I can say little of Atalanian opinion on Caldora in the years before my birth. I believe then that they were perceived chiefly as a rival, but in recent decades the casual arms-length attitude transformed into a widespread disdain for the conduct between Caldora and the Ori."

Henry nodded so quickly that Elizabeth knew he'd been expected this reply long before he'd posed the question. "The Ori," he said gravely, "are not a remembrance easily borne by any Caldoran. If you'll forgive me for asking, my lady, what did your father tell you of them?"

"That they were powerful. That they were religious zealots. I hope I don't disappoint you, but I was quite a small child when my father died. There was little he could tell me that was appropriate to my understanding."

"Have you read their holy book?"

Elizabeth cocked her head in curiosity. "No, I hadn't realized there was one."

He nodded. "I keep a copy in the library at Redwater for remembrance," he said. "I kept another for my private collection, but perhaps I shall give it to you. It would do much to enlighten you about what happened between Caldora and the Ori," he said. He lifted his eyes to gaze once again into the far south. "Their poison was honeyed, my lady. It is easy to look at the past and flay a people for a foolish mistake, but there is much in that book that cannot but be lauded as wisdom. I'm not sure why there were so many who fell under the spell of the Ori priesthood, but please understand. They did not come with terror, but with seduction, and a great many Caldorans welcomed their religion with open arms."

He turned to look at Elizabeth, pained. "I was one of the few who voiced objection from the beginning. Because of my travels, I had heard rumor of their conduct in other countries, of the subtle, leeching conquest of words. But the words of second son of a lesser province carried little weight. It wasn't until their grip on our country was so irrevocably strong that they began to send our sons to war, and only then did the others begin to see the truth."

Elizabeth had no experience on which to draw to comprehend his words, but it took little for her imagination to fill in the picture, and she felt a chill at Henry's words.

"Perhaps Atalan, as a more enlightened country, would have not been as susceptible; I do not know. But the truth remains. Your country had two advantages that Caldora did not." He looked around. "The Talas mountains," he said, waving a hand, "and the benefit of Caldoran experience."

Elizabeth listened to all of this with amazement, though she tried to keep her countenance calm. It was certainly a side of the story she'd never been told, a perspective she had not really considered before. She wondered now how her father had thought of this, if he had taken in the events in Caldora as an example and a warning before making his final decision to resist the Ori.

Henry seemed to perceive her discomfort. "My apologies," he said. "As I said, it is a topic that we're not fond of broaching. But I feel, as king, that I must offer some defense. It is a tragic story when a people will be held by history as fools or cowards for risking something so beautiful and precious as trust. And I know that is how history will paint this part of our past, no matter what Caldora may achieve in the future."

His words called to mind the secrecy of their meeting. Many of her own countrymen would hold her a naïve fool to even come to this meeting. She did not doubt there were men in Caldora who felt the same of Henry, especially now that she considered the price that had once been exacted from a people who had been taken in so terribly in the past by what appeared on the surface to be innocent.

After a long pause, Elizabeth said tentatively, "I should like to read this holy book of the Ori."

He gave a grateful, tired smile. "I shall have it sent to you as soon as possible when I return to Redwater," he said.

"I wish you all the best fortune in your reconstruction efforts, my lord," said Elizabeth sincerely. "And a safe journey home."

"You as well, Queen Elizabeth."

* * *

  
After seeing the Caldorans and the Asgard off, Elizabeth and her party carefully and silently picked their way down the mountain. About a day's ride away was another soldier's way station, though not as large or old as the one they were leaving. There they reunited with the rest of Elizabeth's guards, along with the remainder of their belongings. They planned to stay the night, and the next morning they would head for Hardfort, where Laura and Carson had traveled some days earlier.

Then, at last, they would be going home. Elizabeth felt that she'd had more than her fill of travel for now.

She and Kate slept on the dirt floor of the tiny kitchen that night. Several of the men had objected, but it was a matter of simple practicality. The kitchen was the warmest and safest place, easiest to secure, and too small to contain more than the two of them for a night. So Elizabeth had her proper foray into humility, as she had joked to Kate just a few days ago.

That morning she'd also confessed her deep hope that John would come, and within the hour that hope had been disappointed. By now she knew the circumstances that had kept him in Caldora, but she was no less unhappy about the situation. She thought of Hoff, how he'd wanted her to see the destruction of the village, and imagined how that could be amplified to a city, wiped out, its people starving. He had a whole province to rebuild.

There would never be a time when he wasn't needed in Sheppard.

She lay awake, listening to the sound of Kate breathing, and struggled not to cry. Worse than John's absence was how she was allowing it to affect her. These last few days had been a triumph for her, perhaps the most important thing she had done thus far in her reign, and possibly the most important thing she would ever do. She had reopened ties with Caldora. Though done in secret, she knew she had laid the groundwork for a new relationship between these two ancient rivals. She and King Henry had done so much.

But surrounding every thought of the good they had done was a thought of how other things seemed to be coming apart. She couldn't help but feel that Jack had betrayed her somehow, assuming she had to be manipulated in order to see reason. It was bad enough for him to act thus when they were meeting with a foreign leader in secret, but what if he felt a need to intervene like that in domestic matters? Elizabeth needed to be able to trust him implicitly, and his actions with Lord Mitchell had shaken her faith considerably.

Her distress on his account had dulled her senses on another matter too. Now, as she lay awake, questioning the events of the previous evening, she realized that she had ignored a crucial fact in her dealings with Kate. She did not actually know what had transpired between Marcus and Kate, even as far back as their fight in Iolan. Elizabeth had allowed Laura to deal with that as she liked. Given what happened at the end of that trip, and how they had comported themselves afterward, she had thought that they had at least begun to resolve their problem, whatever it was. And when Marcus had come to her for permission to marry Kate, Elizabeth had foolishly assumed that it was behind them.

Kate could be proud and stubborn. Marcus was just as bad. And now Elizabeth had done what she had dearly wanted to avoid: she had placed herself in the middle of their troubles, and Kate probably thought now that she was siding with Marcus without bothering to hear out her oldest friend.

In the next room she heard movement; a few minutes later there were hushed voices at the door to the outside. The guards were changing, meaning it had to be close to midnight. Worry and frustration had kept her awake half the night.

She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled her whole body seemed to fill with exhaustion. She needed to rest, to recover her spirits so that when she was in Atlantis again she could take up the governance of her country once more. So she turned on her side and closed her eyes. As she drifted off, she tried not to think of John.


End file.
